“Well, we shall just have to risk it and hope that his distaste of abusing a woman with child carries over to the bairn itself.” She started to stand up and readily accepted Jaime’s helping hand. “We may have discovered the limits of Malcolm’s loyalty to his kinsmen. ‘Twould be foolish of us not to take advantage of that.”
“He has never been the brutish sinner his cousins have been. However, one ought to be wary of trusting him too easily.”
“Very true. I also think that there is a part of Malcolm that takes some pleasure in working against his cousins and, in such a way that they could look poorly or foolish if they chided or punished him for it.” She hesitated a little when Jaime started to lead her toward Malcolm’s peel tower. “I could be wrong.”
“So, we stay?” Jaime frowned at her, his expression reflecting the confusion he felt.
“Ah, poor Jaime, trapped out in the rain with a woman who canna decide whether to go or to stay.” She started to walk toward Malcolm’s tower. “I have made the decision. I was just a wee bit slow to act upon it. Let us pray that Malcolm will help us and willna demand too high a price for his aid.”
“Malcolm, I think ye had best come into the kitchen.”
Malcolm looked up from the fire he idly poked at to frown at the young Giorsal, the woman who took care of his meager household. He idly wished that the few guards his uncle had granted him were even half as efficient. After stuffing themselves on another of Giorsal’s excellent meals, the men sent to help him protect his tower house were undoubtedly curled up in their beds or crouched over a pair of dice. They were certainly not where they should be—out in the cold rain watching for an army. Malcolm took a deep breath and tried not to allow his annoyance with the rest of his shoddy staff to be wrongly directed at Giorsal.
“The kitchens?” He smiled faintly. “Ye dinna truly expect me to go down to the kitchens.”
“ ‘Twould offend your manhood, would it? Do ye think I wish ye to help me churn some butter or the like?”
“I think ye grow most impertinent. What possible reason could I have for going into the kitchens?” He frowned when she looked around, then edged closer to him. “Such tiptoeing isna needed, Giorsal. We are alone.”
“But alone enough not to be overheard?” she whispered.
He looked into her dark gray eyes and was puzzled by the secrecy and the hint of fear he could see there. The girl was acting very oddly. Nonetheless, he felt the pinch of alarm.
“And what might they ‘overhear’?” he asked, keeping his own voice low.
“That ye had best come to the kitchens to meet the guests who have just slipped inside.”
“Guests?” He tensed. “What guests? There was no alarm called, none of my men announcedanypeople.”
“Those men your uncle gave ye are not worth the pallets they sleep on. No one is watching. These people slipped into the keep without once being challenged. If they were enemies, I should have been sprawled over my stewpot with my throat cut.” She hurried after Malcolm as he strode toward the kitchen. “However, these people are no threat to us.”
“How can ye be certain of that?” he demanded as he drew his sword.
“As easily as ye will as soon as ye face them.”
Giorsal cursed softly when Malcolm stepped into the kitchen, then stopped so abruptly that she walked into him. She slipped around him to look at the people seated at her work-worn table. The woman looked a little warmer than she should be, but Giorsal quickly refilled her guests’ tankards with mulled cider. The pair needed warming inside and out.
“By the look upon your face, I guess ‘tis a good thing they found me alone,” Giorsal said as she watched Malcolm.
It took Malcolm a moment to shake free of his shock. He could not believe that Ailis MacFarlane and her hulking guardian were sitting in his kitchen. How had they escaped Craigandubh? How had they eluded the MacCordys? Why did they come to him? He did not need such trouble. He certainly did not want to face or make the choices that would be demanded of him.
“What are ye doing here?” he asked as he quickly sat down. “How did ye get away?”
“It wasna so difficult.” Ailis sipped her cider and vowed not to let him know too much about her escape. She did not want to cause her poor befuddled aunt any more difficulty. “The weather has proved to be the most persistent obstacle.”
“So, ye wish me to aid ye in returning to Craigandubh and soften your husband’s fury?” He nodded a silent thank you to Giorsal, who served him some more mulled cider and sat down beside him.
“Nay, I dinna mean to go back to him—ever.” Ailis shook her head. “I would cut my own throat first.”
“Dinna talk such foolishness. Ye carry a child.”
“Aye, I do, which is why I fled your cousin. And why I will never return.”
“Then why are ye here? Ye must ken that I will return ye to Donald.”
“I had hoped that ye wouldna.”
“Hold up now. I am sorry that my one small act of gallantry has made ye think that I am the greatest of fools, a man ready to toss his livelihood, mayhaps even his life, away on a whim.”
